Percy's Fathers
by Liana Legaspi
Summary: A three-shot focusing on each of Percy's fathers. Chapter 1: A bunch of Percy's friends find Gabe in a Soho gallery. Chapter 2: Paul finds Percy unconscious outside of Goode. Chapter 3: Poseidon never knew what to think.
1. Gabe

Gabe was used to having his picture taken. He was used to people lining up to see him, and going "ooh" and "ahhh" and "wow, who made _that_?" And what could he say? He looked amazing. All he had to do was sit there and play poker. Well, really that was all Gabe _could_ do.

He still didn't know what Sally and her punk son did to him. All he knew was that he had a bad hand and Sally barged in and asked his buddies to leave. Gabe could've slapped her. He usually did when she acted up like that, but as he slammed down his cards and looked at her, he saw the ugliest thing ever and he was suddenly too terrified to move.

It had a head full of little snakes, disgusting mottled and disfigured features, crooked tusks, and horrible misshapen eyes. Gabe's best shot at describing the thing couldn't do it justice. It was simply too ugly to portray. Even to this day he shuddered at the image. Or at least, he would've if he could move.

Crazy, messed up Jacksons. Gabe should've known that they - _especially_ the kid, would've been trouble from the beginning. But hey, Sally was the sweetest and prettiest thing in a skirt, _and_ an excellent cook to boot. The embodiment of the poker player's definition of perfect, how could Gabe refuse?

Well, except for her bastard son, she was perfect. Gabe hated the kid from when he first laid eyes on him. Yes, he was adorable and sweet at the time, but he just _knew_ that Percy was going to grow up to be a troublemaker and not even the lovable kind. He was probably going to join a gang when he got big enough - _if _he got big enough. The punk was a peanut.

Gabe put up with the kid because he found that if he hurt the kid's feelings, then _Sally's_ feeling got hurt too. Crying women were a pain. They were loud, pathetic, and their faces would get all scrunched up and they looked _bad_. And if the timing was wrong, Gabe's food was in danger of getting soggy with her tears, so he stopped picking on the punk. While she was around.

Sally was gone a lot, juggling weird jobs at even stranger hours, trying to support the Jackson-Ugliano household. Gabe once suggested that money wouldn't be so tight if they didn't have a growing kid to feed. She didn't say one unkind word to him, but her glare was enough of warning to Gabe that if he ever implied giving her son up again, she'd do something unspeakably bad. For her that would probably be making microwave dinners for Gabe for the rest of the year. That didn't _sound_ bad. Cheap meals and beer was what he survived on before he married Sally, and he turned out fine. But after being spoiled with homemade meals, well, Gabe could keep his opinions on what to do with Percy to himself.

But that didn't mean he liked the kid any better. In fact, Percy had seriously started to get on his nerves even more when he reached the frustrating age of eight. The punk was starting to get sarcastic and rebellious, calling him "Smelly Gabe" and asking why he didn't get his own beer; the fridge was just a couple of feet away.

The gambler slammed his hands on the coffee table, making the kid jump. "Punk," he growled, "I think it's about time you learned some manners." And that was the first time Gabe hit him. Beat him really.

The next morning, Sally screamed in horror at her baby's bruises and rushed over to pull him into her lap, even though he deemed himself too old for shows of affection. She brushed his messy hair out of his face and tears welled up in her own eyes like _she_ was the one that was hurt. Women. "Oh, Percy, what happened?"

Gabe glared at the punk, giving him a warning look. Then he pounded his fist into his hand twice. The kid got the message and swallowed. He looked up into his mother's scared and loving eyes and said, "Nothing, mommy, I was just trying to do a flip like I saw the acrobats do on TV."

She frowned at him, detecting that he was hiding something. Nevertheless, Sally kissed his forehead and told him to be more careful and that some things seen on TV weren't safe to try. _Ever_.

Later, Gabe wondered why she didn't confront him about it. It was obvious that she didn't believe Percy for a second, the little punk. But Sally wasn't stupid like Gabe wished she was sometimes. Sally should've been able to put the pieces together, but she didn't. She acted like something _else _had hurt her son. Gabe took it as a green light to continue "disciplining" his stepson.

At first, he didn't hurt Percy just for the heck of it, even though he wanted to. Gabe waited for him to slip up and do something wrong, like forget to clean up after him and his friends after a guys' night, or when he didn't clean up the blood from his last beating and Sally _almost_ saw it.

But then, Gabe started hitting the punk if he lost his poker game and, therefore, his temper. Percy became his own little punching bag. He could never take it _too far_ for fear of accidentally killing the kid and being put in jail, or worse, hurting him _really _badly and having to take him to the hospital. The stupid doctor's bills were _way_ too expensive.

But one day, Sally came home early. She didn't see Gabe actually _hurt_ Percy. But the sight of her almost eleven year-old son lying unconscious on the kitchen floor and Gabe sitting on the couch, like always, with bleeding knuckles was enough for her realize instantly what had _really_ been happening while she was at work.

It wasn't the Greek monsters she should've been worrying about. It was the vile monster of a mortal she and her son were living with. In her effort to protect him from sharing the fate of the last child of the Big Three, she forced him to condone with the beatings of a drunk, _disgusting_ man.

Sally almost threw him out. Almost. She knew it was selfish. And she hated herself for it, but she couldn't force her baby into the life of a hero at such a young age. Sally couldn't give up her last and most treasured gift from Poseidon just yet.

So the love of the sea god steeled herself and looked Gabe in the eye. "Hit me."

The beer addict raised his greasy eyebrows. His puny mind tried to understand what Sally was implying. "Hit _me._ But not my son. Not Percy, never him. You can do whatever you like to me, but leave him alone."

No, Sally couldn't give up her baby, even though she knew she'd have to in a couple more years. But keeping Percy meant keeping Gabe and keeping Gabe meant that either one of the Jacksons was going to get hurt. _Better it be me than Percy_, thought Sally. _Percy will have to endure enough pain when he faces the life of a demigod. I'll give him time to be a kid, time to just be a boy, even if it means _letting_ Gabe breaking every bone in my body._

And so, the poker player moved on from the son to mother, who he would continue to hurt until, one day she'd break up his poker party and place the head of Medusa before Gabe's tiny, pig-like eyes. He'd be petrified, bean dip forever stuck to his chin from whenever he'd miss his mouth, a permanent scowl, and eternally clutching a losing hand. And Sally Jackson would _sell_ him to the freaking Soho gallery where he would spend the remainder of his _everlasting_ life being stared at.

To say he was furious with the Jacksons was a horrible understatement. _When I get out of this, I'm going to _kill_ that little punk and his little-_

"Whoa, _that_ was Percy's first stepdad?"

Gabe's brain shut down, and all he could think was: What?

Percy isn't as uncommon of a name most people believe it is. He had heard the punk's name called many times. But it was the words surrounding the kid's name the got the poker player. He went through the words again in his head slowly.

Gabe looked for the owner of the voice. His eyes zeroed in on a teenager with dark curly hair, arched eyebrows, and a mischievous smile eating Skittles out of a family sized bag. He looked like he was with a group of kids, but Gabe couldn't tell which school they were from. He briefly wondered if they were _those_ kinds of people who came to museums for _fun_, but quickly nixed that idea. If they _were_ those people, they didn't look like it.

Other than the Latino Santa's elf, there was pretty tall kid with bright blue eyes and blond hair, and for some, reason Gabe felt like smashing his perfect face in. The blond superman had his arm around a short but really pretty girl brunette with choppy locks and eyes that never stayed the same color. On the other side of the blond was a girl who looked like she _could_ be his little sister. She had the same eyes and nose, but that was where the resemblance ended. While the male Barbie kid was tan and light haired, she was pale and had short, punk styled hair. She looked like the scariest thing on two legs.

Gabe quickly decided that he was wrong to make that assumption when he saw the next kid. He was bonier and more raggedy than the other kids, but he was obviously someone you did _not_ want to mess with. He was wearing all black even though it was summer and most kids tried to work brighter, happier colors. His eyes and hair were black and had a slightly crazed edge to them. Something about his slouch posture told Gabe that he wasn't looking depressed or scary because he thought it was cool, but because there simply wasn't a lot for him to be happy about.

If Gabe could've, he would've run away from the kid, but he obviously couldn't so he did the next best thing which was looking away. The redhead standing next to Mr. Gloomy looked like the complete opposite of him. She seemed as energetic as the first kid, and for some reason she reminded Gabe of his art teacher in kindergarten. The girl was wearing paint splattered pants and a worn out HARVARD ART DEPT. T-shirt. The poker player figured that she was the sole reason these kids came here on a _Saturday_.

The next two teenagers were another couple but an odd one. For starters, the boy was _huge_. He might've looked intimidating, but he still had a baby face that Gabe found stupid. The girl was tiny compared to her boyfriend and probably a few years younger which was strange 'cause for most teenagers, a three year age difference was huge. She was pretty though, she had cocoa skin and golden eyes that made Gabe look twice.

If Gabe saw them on the streets, he'd probably tell them to beat it, but unfortunately, cement sculptures couldn't speak so he had to bare with eight teenagers with nothing better to do on a weekend other than staring at him. They were an odd bunch, it was no wonder the punk _probably_ knew these kids.

"Yep," the redhead said. "There's Smelly Gabe in all his card sharking glory."

Smelly Gabe...there was no doubt about it anymore. The punk _knew_ these kids. Gabe's temper flared and he wondered if it was possible for him to explode in rock form.

"When I first met Sally," the redhead continued, "I thought that she was the most amazing sculptor _ever_. I pestered her about making another statue for a while until Percy told me about the whole Medusa thing."

"I still can't believe she and Percy had to put up with this creep."

Gabe would've snarled at the girl if he could. But alas, he was still frozen so he settled with mentally strangling her.

"Sally loved Percy, Thalia," said the goth boy. "He wouldn't have survived long without Gabe's scent."

_What's with everyone and my odor?_ he thought irritably.

"Percy almost didn't survive _with_ him," the girl - Thalia snapped. "You've seen his scars, too, Nico."

The chubby Chinese kid blinked at her. "Wait, what?"

The redhead pursed her lips and shared a look with Thalia and Nico. "You've seen Percy fight, Frank. He rarely gets _that_ badly hurt."

..._Percy Jackson_ fighting?

The blond superman looked horrified. "You mean _that_" - he nodded towards Gabe - "used to hurt Percy when he was just a _kid_?"

"That's sick!" cried the golden eyes one, fanning her face like she was about to faint from the thought of the punk being abused as a child. Gabe wondered just how much his soon-to-be-dead stepson was paying these people to like him.

The really pretty girl glowered at Gabe which he found adorable. "Why didn't he say anything to _us_ about it?"

Thalia sighed and tugged at her Green Day T-shirt. "Don't feel left out, Piper. He never said anything about it period. Nico and I noticed the scars one day when us three were hanging out on the beach." She frowned at the redhead. "How come you knew?"

The redhead was scrutinizing a painting on the wall to the left of Gabe. "Katarina Davis' pool party."

"Who's that?" the Latino elf asked.

"Oh, one of the popular girls with a rich daddy from Goode High. And before you ask, Leo, she's not single."

Leo frowned with mock hurt and tossed a skittle into his mouth. "Rachel, since when were you a killjoy?"

"And hypocrite," the pretty girl teased.

The art fanatic raised a playful eyebrow. "Look who's talking."

Gabe studied the girls again. They definitely didn't _seem_ rich. Rachel looked like she pulled her clothes from a donation box and Piper - whatever kind of name that was for a kid, looked she was wearing hand-me-downs.

"Yes," drawled Leo, "we get it, you two, your daddies are both loaded. Now please continue."

"Right," said Rachel, "well, anyways, Percy and I were invited to it, and you know, we went, ate food, hung out. It was actually really fun until they asked him to get in the water. At first, he just told them he didn't feel like swimming, and that was fine. But the more he refused, but the more they started pressuring him to get in. They tried baiting him by asking if he couldn't swim," - Thalia and the blond snorted at that -"the cheerleaders tried to flirt with him, saying they'd love to see him shirtless, and it turned into some huge game of trying to get Percy into the water."

The youngest girl frowned. "That's so mean."

"I don't get it," added her boyfriend. "Why didn't he just get in? He loves swimming."

"Yeah," agreed Rachel. "But that's in the ocean, or at camp where it's normal to have scars all over your body. Not a high school birthday party.

"Anyways, a couple of the jocks got a little annoyed with Percy. They thought he was making a huge deal over it for the attention, so they grabbed him and threw him into the water while his back was turned. It wouldn't have been a big deal, he could've laughed it off and the party would've continued, but he was wearing a pretty thin, white T-shirt at the time so it became pretty much see through. And he couldn't just magically dry himself like usual because, you know, mortals. So he had to climb out of the pool and just let _everyone_ at Goode see his scars.

"I grabbed him, called my chauffeur, and brought him home after that, of course. But no one in Goode has ever really looked at him the same since. No one's mean about it...well, maybe a few who've been calling him a cutter, but everyone just kind of skirts around him like he has some sort of disease."

Thalia's and Nico's eyes flash. "I'd like to see the jerks who did that to him," she growled.

The sumo wrestler wannabe stared at her. "I thought you were a Hunter, so you know..."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Oh, Kelp Head's _all_ Annabeth's, Frank. He, Nico, and Jason are like my little brothers that I never really wanted."

Nico scowled and the male model of a boy muttered, "Gee, thanks." But it was obvious that both boys weren't offended by their pseudo sister's words.

"You know, he never really did tell us about his childhood," said Frank.

Jason stared up Gabe. "Well," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Now we know why."

"I always figured he had a perfect life," said the golden eyed one. She held out her hand for Leo to pour candy into. "He just seemed like that type of guy; leader, hero, all that good stuff."

Piper leaned into her boyfriend's shoulder and played with her pheasant feathers. "I think that's what we all thought, Hazel."

For a while, Jason, Nico, and Thalia glowered at the Percy's former stepfather, wishing it were possible to hurt stone. Leo eyed Gabe like he was thinking of stealing him and blowing him up, and the Latino elf popped a few skittles in his mouth. Frank and Hazel watched the sculpture like it was going to move to attack them any time now, little did they know that Gabe truly, deeply wanted to. Piper just stared at the statue, wondering how someone could be so cruel to hurt their friend when he was just a boy. And Rachel admired the way Sally managed to petrify her late husband and abuser in his really, _really_ bad angle.

Gabe simply ignored the angry teenagers' looks, and mulled over what he heard. Rachel had mentioned something about magic and Medusa earlier, and that Hazel chick had called the punk a leader and hero. That made the poker player want to laugh. The thought of that puny, weak, insignificant little kid becoming-

"Hey, what are you guys looking at?"

Gabe mind stopped. He knew that voice. Oh god, how he hated that voice. It was much deeper now, but Gabe could still remember how it sounded before puberty. He wanted to grit his teeth and block it out, but at the same time he was curious. He wondered what kind of nut job the punk's become hang out with these freaks.

Gabe looked. He didn't see the lanky, short boy he was expecting. No, he saw a strong, tall boy with broad shoulders and chiseled, tan features. His jet black hair was still untamable, but now it fell in messy waves rather than the troll hair it used to be. Then his eyes, instead of the terrified, cow eyes Gabe remembered, he met intense sea green eyes that made him feel like he was drowning. And there was a gorgeous blonde on his arm to boot.

"Nothing," Rachel said breezily. "Just admiring your mom's artwork Percy."

His eyes shot up to stare at Gabe, and for once, the gambler was okay with the fact that he couldn't talk because he doesn't know what he'd say. He didn't even know what to think.

Percy's friends watched him look at his stepdad. Six long years had passed since the boy last saw Smelly Gabe, and they studied his face, trying to gouge out any sign of emotion. To their disappointment, they couldn't. The son of Poseidon's face was completely unreadable.

"Anything you want to say, Percy?" asked Jason, hesitantly trying to get his friend to talk. He knew he shouldn't pry, but still, after they'd saved the world together, Jason figured it gave him some sort of free pass.

"I don't think there's anything _to_ say, Jason," said the blonde, Percy's hand still on her waist. And Gabe thinks that with her stormy grey eyes, she's just as scary as Thalia and Nico if not worse. She looked up to what Gabe figured was her boyfriend. Ha, Percy Jackson having a girlfriend, if Gabe wasn't looking at the punk now, he never would've believed it. "Is there?" she asked him, her eyes taking on a softer glint to them as she looked at him.

Percy's vibrant eyes met Gabe's stone ones, and even though he's just a hunk of cement now, he gets the message. _You beat me when I was just a boy. I bled and hurt and hated myself for being weak. For _letting _you get your way. When I was a kid, I feared you with every fiber in my being, and I let you towered over me, bigger, stronger._

Now_ look at where we are. I've killed monsters that would give any grown mortals and demigods nightmares. I've fought the Titan Lord Kronos himself. I've fought the giants and Gaea, I've walked through Tartarus and lived to tell the tale._

_I am Percy Jackson. I am the son of Poseidon. I am the hero of Olympus. And you, Gabe Ugliano, are just a statue._

He smiled casually at his friends. "Nah, not really."

And the son of Poseidon walked out of the Soho gallery flanked by people who loved him. And as the lights in the gallery flickered off, Gabe silently relived his life from the moment he first hit Percy Jackson.

He wishes to this day that he'd just gotten his own stupid beer.

**I think that this'll be a three-shot of all of Percy's dads, if you guys want that. Tell me what you think. Reviews are always appreciated, even if it's just a smiley face.**


	2. Paul

Whether it was dumping his class and chaperone into a shark pool, shooting a cannon at a school bus, blowing up a gym while playing dodge ball, or disrespecting a teacher, Percy had gotten expelled from every school he went to. When Sally first told Paul that her son couldn't stay in one school for more than a year, his teacher instincts immediately put up warning signs that said DELINQUENT, TROUBLEMAKER UP AHEAD, and TURN BACK NOW.

Paul could understand being expelled from one or two schools, but _every_ single year starting from _2nd_ grade? That wasn't a good sign, and from the way Sally talked about him with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face, he thought that Percy would be the athletic, popular, piano-playing valedictorian kind of kid that every parent dreamed of.

Evidently not. Rather than a fair haired, bright eyed young man who wore polos daily, got straight _A_s, and had a pleasant, mature personality, Paul started pictured a kid with a brooding face, crazy hair, dark clothes with chains and studs, and maybe a nose ring. He knew it was bad to stereotype, but he was a teacher and that was what his most terrifying and frustrating students looked like.

Paul slowly but surely steeled himself for his imminent meeting with Percy. It was wrong to judge, but in all his years, Paul had never misread anyone. And he took great pride in that. But it didn't matter if Sally's son was built like a building and was a teacher's nightmare, for her, he'd do anything.

"Paul?"

The man snapped out of his musings and looked up to smile at his girlfriend. Even though she was just in a blouse and jeans and her hair was down in its normal waves, Sally always managed to take Paul's breath away. He was so wrapped up in staring at her that he almost missed a boy about fourteen standing beside her with curious eyes. Almost. The teacher eyed the boy, wondering why he was there.

"This is my son Percy."

There was no resemblance between him and Paul's girlfriend. While Sally had stunning, bright blue eyes, sweet features, and soft brown hair (he loved to run his fingers through it), this boy had black and grey hair, somewhat proud features, and blue-green eyes. He could've passed for a typical teenager with his converse and skinny jeans if it wasn't for his alert stance, like he was just _waiting_ for something to go wrong.

Paul felt like he had just jumped onto a lifeboat and someone told him that the ship wasn't actually sinking. The boy standing before him did not look like a "bad boy" whatsoever. Although his hair looked a little crazy from the way it stood up in some places, he wasn't anything like what Paul had expected. No nose ring, no studs, no chains.

"It's nice to meet you," Percy said, extending his hand.

"Oh-yes, nice to meet you too, Percy," the man stuttered. He subtly rubbed his hand behind his back. Percy had a strong grip. "I'm Paul Blofis."

The teen's eyebrows raised a little and the corners of his lips lifted up like he found Paul extremely amusing, but didn't want to embarrass him. Sea green eyes twinkled a little and the teacher found that the the teen had a contagious smile.

Sally beamed at her boys. "I'll be ready in a few," she told Paul, leaving her son and her boyfriend to get acquainted.

After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Paul cleared his throat. "It's nice to finally meet you," he repeated. "Your mother's told me a lot about you." And that was true. Paul just completely pegged him wrong...twice.

"You like my mom a lot?" he asked. It sounded nonchalant, just an innocent question, but Paul could see his face hardening just a tad. The teacher thought through his words carefully.

"I think your mother's a wonderful woman," he stated. "I think she's perfect in every way, and I hope I can give her everything that she deserves." None of it was a lie, he just left out how beautiful he thought Sally was. Boys tended to look disgusted whenever they heard things that.

Percy smiled, and Paul found himself smiling back again. "Good," he said, then his smile dropped and his voice took on a hard edge, "because the last guy dropped off the face of the earth. For your sake, I hope you're an improvement. If you're not, the Soho Museum's going to get another statue to add to their collection."

Wait. What? But in a blink, Percy was just sitting there with his friendly smile and twirling a pen around his fingers. There wasn't a hint of malice or tension in his shoulders anymore. It was like he'd completely switched. Something about that read DANGER in bright neon letters, and Paul thought that maybe he wasn't _completely_ wrong on his preconceived opinions.

Then it hit him. _The last guy_. Paul remembered Sally mentioning that she used to be married. He offered her his condolences, but the normally kind, gentle woman didn't _seem_ heartbroken over her loss at all. In fact, she seemed...relieved, content even. Although they were only friends at the time, the thought of what her attitude toward her husband's death implied managed to make Paul's blood boil. Seeing how her son was affected by the man as well only renewed his anger.

The teacher had had quite a few students that he suspected were abused or mistreated at home. He saw them every day, and even though they were all nice kids, they each had a sad, desperate glint to their eyes and a defeated posture. Paul was aware that it was evil to wish that someone was dead, but he was suddenly very glad that Sally's last husband was gone for good.

Paul decided then and there that if it meant helping Sally's son trust him, and...Percy _not_ donating another statue (whatever that meant), then he could back away a little for his sake. Even though he barely knew Percy, Paul decided then and there that he would find a way to earn the boy's trust even if it took forever.

"Paul?" Sally stepped into the room, and the man's heart skipped a beat again. Slowing things down with Sally would be hard. Almost impossible for him to do, but for Percy's sake, he'd manage.

That little black box sitting in his pocket could wait until not only Sally, but her son would be able to accept him too.

(Later that night, Paul went against all of his teacher instincts and told his girlfriend to enroll Percy into Goode High School.)

When Paul found Percy unconscious behind his school, the teacher was horrified. His fiancé's son was slumped against the brick wall with a nasty bruise on his temple. A tall, lanky boy wearing a rasta hat was standing over him, digging through Percy's backpack, looking furiously for something.

"Come on, come on," he muttered. "Don't tell me he forgot to stock up."

The boy looked about 17 or 18, it was difficult to tell, but he had a scraggly goatee and wild, curly hair. He was wearing baggy jeans and a "Go Green" T-shirt, but to Paul, he resembled a hobo.

The teacher grit his teeth. How dare someone-anyone try to _mug_ Percy. Paul's blood boiled and he snapped venomously, "Get away from him."

The rasta kid jumped back and stared up at him. A deer caught in the headlights. His eyes darted between himself and where Percy sat limply and his mouth dropped open. "Oh gods, this isn't what it looks like, sir."

"No?" he asked coldly, raising an eyebrow. "What is it then?"

"He was...uh, he hit his head." The teen's nose twitched a little and he shuffled his feet. His big green eyes looked up at Paul, and his legs tensed like he was trying not to tremble.

"And just _how_ did my son hit his head?" The words came out before he even realized what he was saying. Son. Not soon-to-be stepson, or fiancé's son, just _son_.

It wasn't that Paul _disliked_ Percy, quite the opposite actually. Over time, Percy had accepted and actually befriended his mother's boyfriend, and somewhere along the way of being Percy's teacher and actually getting to _know_ him, Paul got attached. Quickly.

Yes, Percy had his quirks, like how he always said gods as in plural rather than just one. And how he'd always come downstairs with friends who seemed appear out of thin air - that Nico boy was a prime example. How Percy went into the bathroom to shower one time and came out with the younger boy in tow was still a mystery to Paul. Then, there were all those times Percy disappeared for hours and came back with golden dust in his hair and on his clothes.

He also had his secrets. Percy once came in with a big boy named Beckendorf. The two had talked in hushed voices in the kitchen for _hours_ and whenever Paul stepped in to get a drink or snack, they'd immediately stop, and Beckendorf would cover whatever map the boys were looking at with one, beefy arm. And after Paul proposed, he invited Percy and Sally to fly down to Jamaica with him for his family reunion. He would've paid for the tickets, and his parents had already insisted on taking care of the rooms, so his almost family wouldn't have to pay for anything. Percy and his mother had traded nervous glances and Sally politely declined, saying that she was afraid of flying ever since her parents died. That was fine, Paul could understand that, but he had a feeling that there was a different reason for their insistence on not flying.

Percy was an enigma. He was strange, moody, impulsive, and at the same time kindhearted and loyal to a fault (the english teacher had no idea how right he was). So despite the quirks and secrets, Paul had honestly started to love Percy like he was _always_ his own son.

The kid blinked. "You're Paul Blofis?"

"Yes," Paul said carefully. "Who are you?"

"Grover. Grover Underwood," he said, eyes lighting up. "Percy might've told me about you?"

Paul's eyes narrowed. "No. He didn't."

Grover's eyes dimmed. "Right, of course not," he muttered. "Look, Mr. Blofis, this isn't what it looks like, trust me."

The teacher only stared at him, unconvinced.

The boy rubbed the back of head with one hand while the other still clutched the open backpack. Finally, his ears perked up a little, and he plopped Percy's school bag onto the ground. Grover spread out his arms a little. "Do I _look_ like I could actually hurt Percy?"

Paul reluctantly realized he was right. Although he was still slumped against the wall, Percy had at least a couple inches on Grover and was as strong as Paul even. From doing _what _exactly, the teacher still didn't know. And once, when Paul stayed the night as Sally's, he had tried to wake Percy up for school and had ended up on the floor with a barely even awake Percy choking him. Although Percy was younger than Grover, he was stronger and taller than him, and Paul doubted that he could be caught off guard by a scrawny, hobo-like environmentalist.

After seeing the older man's somewhat convinced expression, Grover grinned. "Exactly! Percy's tough, you'd need at least, like, I don't know, Clarisse and Thalia to take him down."

Paul didn't know who Clarisse and Thalia were, nor did he really care. He watched Grover warily again. "Then what were you looking through his backpack for?"

"Smelling salts," he blurted after a beat of hesitation. Grover blinked a little and struggled for words. "Yeah...because all kids carry around smelling salts. For when they faint. Like Percy did. Yeah."

Paul was debating whether to just believe him, carry Percy to his car, and go home or call the police when his almost stepson groaned. Percy sat up and rubbed his temple. His eyes zeroed in on Grover who had started rummaging through backpack again, looking for "smelling salts."

"Did we kill it?" he croaked.

Grover's eyes shot to where Paul stood. "Uh, wow, Percy. You got a really bad concussion so I have no idea what you're talking about. Uh, it looks like he hit his head harder than I thought...when he fell. 'Cause he fainted. Why don't I just help you get him to your car?"

The confused and exhausted teacher sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Percy _did_ have a really bad bruise that Paul wanted to take a look at, and Grover just seemed too...awkward to be of any danger to, well, _anyone_ really. He walked over to Percy and placed his hand on his shoulder, still keeping the other teen in his peripheral vision.

"Hey," he said, shaking the youngest Jackson a little. "You with me?"

"Yeah," Percy slurred. Paul draped the younger man's arm over his shoulder and gently lifted him onto his feet. Percy frowned and scanned the area. "Grover, where're all the hel-"

"Hey!" Grover interrupted, finally giving up on searching the backpack. "He looks heavy, I'll help you carry him."

With a little work and a lot of nervous talking on Grover's part, the two older men managed to get Percy into the Prius. Paul mumbled his thanks to the environmentalist and with one last suspicious look, he got into his car and left the environmentalist alone in the high school parking lot.

"You're really nice, you know," Percy mumbled. "I'm really happy my mom said yes to you. You're a really big improvement to the last guy."

Paul's eyes softened and even though he knew Percy was probably only telling him that because he had a concussion, his heart soared. "I'm glad you think so, Percy." He paused. "To be honest, you weren't what I was expecting. I thought for sure that Percy Jackson would be a punk,"- the boy flinched at that -"a teacher's worst nightmare, someone that looked at the world like it was their own personal sandbox.

"You were the very last thing I was expecting. You knew more than most boys your at your age would - you'd _seen_ more. You haven't had an easy life, I know that, but instead of breaking, you just got stronger. And then you were brave enough to give me a chance at being a stepfather even...even though your own father hurt you. You might think I'm just assuming all of this, but part of being a teacher is reading between the lines."

Percy's normally intense eyes were glazed over, but he managed a mumbled, "Smelly Gabe wasn't my birth dad. I just needed his scent until... Well, out of my mortal dads, you're the best one."

Paul didn't know why Percy would need someone's scent. He didn't know that Sally's first husband wasn't Percy's real father. And he definitely didn't know what the teenager meant by "_out_ of my _mortal_ dads." But that was ok.

Percy Jackson was an unintentional delinquent, but that was okay. He was different, but that was okay. The teenager was an enigma, but that was okay. A month before the wedding, Paul was going to discover that Percy was the powerful son of a Greek god, but that was okay. He was the very first person Paul misjudged, and that was okay.

Percy Jackson was going to be Paul's son, and _that_ was _definitely_ okay.

* * *

**Thank you so much to **_**everyone**_** who reviewed, you guys completely made my day. :D Writing Paul was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Was it okay?**


	3. Poseidon

When Poseidon crept into Percy's bedroom to lay his eyes on his new son for the very first time, the god wasn't sure what to think. This son's birth was average. He was the average weight, average size, average _everything._ The sea god wasn't sure how the boy could _possibly_ grow up to be the child of the prophecy.

When Poseidon put his hand on Percy's wrinkled little head, there wasn't any spark or sensational feeling, just the feel of a baby waking up beneath his palm. The only time Poseidon felt anything more than mild confusion and slight disappointment was when the boy opened his eyes. It wasn't because they were the exact same color as the god's (which they were), or because there was a deep source of power behind the sea green orbs (which there was), but because Percy didn't cry, didn't laugh, he stared. There wasn't a hint of curiosity, confusion, or happiness in his eyes, he simply stared.

It wasn't normal for Poseidon to feel unsettled by his children, but there was _something_ about the way Percy looked at him that made the god feel...different. The sea god tried smiling down at the boy, but Percy only stared. Not in awe, fear, or love, he only gazed at his father. The god of the sea crept out of his son's bedroom, still not knowing what to think.

"Well, that was...sweet."

Poseidon tensed. Normally he would cringe to hear that voice, now he was horrified. _Not now_, he begged. Definitely not now.

He subtly gripped his trident a little harder. Even if Percy was a bit...different, Poseidon would _not_ let him get hurt. She wouldn't normally hurt one of his children when they were so young, but this one _could_ raze Olympus.

"I wonder how long."

The god didn't know what she was referring to. It didn't matter if Poseidon knew her for thousands of years, he could never really understand this woman. The sea god turned to face her.

"Why are you here, Athena?"

Stormy grey met sea green. "You should really learn to be more subtle when you sneak into the mortal world. You're lucky it was only me and Artemis that noticed. If anyone else...well, you know how they can't keep a secret." Her head tilted a bit to the side. "Sally's a very sweet woman. For her sake, I wished you two had never met, Uncle."

Poseidon sighed and rubbed his face. Athena wished that for every woman he fell in love with. "Why are you here?" he asked warily.

"I could kill your child right now," she stated, not threateningly.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "I could destroy the residents of Cabin 6."

She smiled a little wryly. "But _I_ would be preventing the prophecy. No one would blame me. Could you still say the same thing? Have a better reason than a petty act of revenge?"

The sea god's shoulders slumped a little. "No. No, I suppose I couldn't."

Her eyes sparkled like they always did whenever she won. "May I see him?" she said, a slight taunting lilt to her voice.

Poseidon's eyes flashed, and he slammed his trident on the ground hard. The earth rumbled and the waves crashed violently onto the sand, getting closer and closer to the wisdom goddess.

"I take it that's a no."

"No," Poseidon cleared coolly.

The wisdom goddess studied the older god's face. It took all of Poseidon's willpower to not blast her where she stood when her eyes danced with taunting mirth. "I don't need to see him. Your face says enough. Besides," she said, lips tilting up, "I've already visited my new cousin."

The sea god clenched his teeth. "Then why ask for my permission now?"

Her smirk only widened and Poseidon got the feeling that just loved pushing his buttons. "He's not nearly as strong as Theseus was," she said. From the way she spoke she could've been saying "Do a better job next time."

Poseidon looked back through the window to gaze at his son. Percy was still awake, still watching him with the same look in his eyes. The god shifted a little uncomfortably.

"Good night, Uncle," the goddess continued, already walking away.

Poseidon blinked. "You won't kill him?"

She paused. "Like I said, out of all your brood, he's a less impressive spawn." Athena turned back to look the sea god in the eye. "He won't last long. He will fail...worse than Orion, who was killed in your own realm, and worse than Theseus, who was killed by his own people." She tilted he head. "You should go back to your little underwater kingdom before Amphitrite discovers your...activities. She's not nearly as vengeful as Hera, but she still has quite a temper."

Athena and Poseidon stared at each other, the latter's tongue feeling dry. "It would have been better for your son if he had never been born. A hero's fate is always, _always_ tragic."

The sea god left Montauk with a sinking feeling in his gut and still not knowing what to think.

* * *

Triton leaned against the wall, watching his father bury his face into his hands. The prince pursed his lips before swiping through the oneway Iris-message. He faced his father and began clapping slowly.

"Congratulations. Really. You meet a pretty girl, get her pregnant, she gives you a son, and you leave them to deal with that _monster_ of a mortal. Brilliant, Father, truly, I don't know how you will ever outdo yourself after this," he seethed, furious by what he saw.

The water around Triton was starting to boil, and Poseidon sighed, face still in his hands. His son was angry, that much was obvious. But the sea god couldn't tell whether it was because Triton felt that he had been replaced by a mortal again or because he couldn't believe the state he left the Jacksons in. Either way, the younger god was furious with him.

"You're not even going to answer me?"

The sea god closed his eyes. "I had no idea-"

"Of course you didn't," Triton snapped. "You don't realize that every time you-you 'fall in love' with a mortal, you create someone, some_thing_; a tragedy doomed from the very beginning. And _this_ particular son's tragedy has begun very early. He can't even experience the joys of being a naïve, innocent, utterly useless _child_."

The prince watched in grim satisfaction as a tear rolled down the older god's tan, weathered cheek. Poseidon grit his teeth and his arms trembled from barely suppressed rage at Gabe Ugliano.

Triton lost his patience. "You stupid old man! Can't you _say_ anything? _Do_ anything?"

"I..." He couldn't speak passed the lump in his throat so he only shook his head mournfully, eyes lowering to the marble floors. Poseidon wished to blast the vile man that Sally and Percy were living with to bits. But his lover had him swear on his son's life not to interfere.

"Then you have failed," Triton said, pouring contempt into each word. "You have _failed_ to keep your oath. You have failed to remain faithful to your _wife_. And now you can't even claim to have succeeded as a father... You can't say that about any of your sons."

The sea god remembered Athena's words. _Orion...killed in your own realm... Theseus...killed by his own people.  
_  
Poseidon squeezed his eyes shut and repeated in his head, _I'm so sorry, Percy. I've done this to you, I've punished you to a hero's fate by siring you. This is completely my fault, and you have to pay the price for my sins. I'm so _sorry_, my son.  
_  
Triton's double tails quickly propelled him away. And he left his father alone in his throne room, thinking over the last time he saw his son and wishing he had felt more than just confusion and disappointment. The god of the sea wished he hadn't been so wary of his son's stare. Poseidon wished he had held Percy then because no matter how much he wished for it, he couldn't comfort his son now.

"Here."

Poseidon started, jerking out of his throne to see his wife. She floated in from of him, holding out a familiar 3 foot-long celestial bronze sword. It was a double edge blade, each wickedly sharp, a leather wrapped grip, and flat hilt riveted with gold studs.

"Give it to Chiron," Amphitrite ordered, her face blank. "He will give to the boy, _if_ he survives."

Poseidon took the sword and ran his hands across the blade. "Anaklusmos. The current that takes one by surprise, and before you know it, you have been swept out to see."

Her lips curled back into a sneer at the grateful look in her king's eyes. "Don't mistake my kindness for acceptance. It would have been best if your wrongdoing had never been born."

* * *

Poseidon exhaled as Percy walked away from the throne room. He felt like an utter failure. The sea god couldn't even say he was sorry without hurting his son in the process. And worse, Poseidon still didn't know what to think of the boy.

A deep chuckling snapped the god out of his thoughts. "I see you've inherited father's parenting abilities after all, brother."

Poseidon glared down at the floor. "How long have you been here, Zeus? I thought you had to 'go personally to purify the thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal.'"

The god's eyes danced between electric blue and rainy grey. "I also said that unless Perseus was gone by the time I returned, I would kill him."

The older brother decided that Zeus had been having too much father-daughter bonding time with Athena. "Do you honestly presume I would allow that?"

"After seeing the state of your relationship, yes."

Poseidon grit his teeth. "You are not one to talk, brother." Neither statements were insults, just cold, hard facts and both gods knew it.

"No," was all Zeus could say.

For the first time in hundreds of years, the two brothers sat together in silence. Poseidon could only see the face of young boy that looked _so_ much like him, desperately trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes. The eyes that hadn't lost their unusual glimmer since he was a baby. The sea god could only hear his son's voice crack as he said, "I don't mind, Father." And the second eldest god still didn't know what to think.

* * *

"Vouching for your son publicly was a bold move. Saving the Orphiotaurus was even bolder."

Poseidon sipped his nectar and watched his niece's face. "You're making a bold move speaking to me when you recently tried to kill my son. And Thalia Grace," he added.

"I wasn't trying to kill them, I was-"

"Merely pointing out the risk," he quoted evenly. "For you, each action has the same result. What's wrong, Lady Athena? Are you afraid you were mistaken to assume that he wouldn't last long? That you, the great goddess of wisdom, must admit you were _wrong_?"

Athena's eyes flashed dangerously, and even though she was just in a button up shirt and cropped jeans, Poseidon thought that she looked ready for war. "Listen to me, you little sea urchin," she hissed, and Poseidon swore he could see ice dripping off each word. "Your son is a risk. Look at yourself; he has you bending over backwards to his every whim. God of the sea or not, you knew it was too dangerous to allow the Orphiataurus to live. But all he had to do was look at you with those _infuriating_ eyes, and you gave in.

"This son - this _upstart_, in particular, is your weakness. You would let Atlantis be destroyed for him. He is a chink in your armor right over your heart, Poseidon. Fix it." Athena glided away, the crowd parting for her without hesitation, and in his eternal life, Poseidon had never felt more conflicted.

* * *

_Percy stood confidently in the middle of the throne room yet again. His eyes had the same glimmer in them that they always had, his shoulders were back, and his face was cool and collected. The gods, however, had various degrees of humiliation at being told what to do by a child, anger, and shock. Shock that they, the all-powerful beings of the universe, were wrong.  
_  
The sea god walked through the ruins of Olympus with a headache brewing. His son had given up godhood for a _girl_, a daughter of _Athena_. Poseidon had honestly thought that his son would accept their generous gift, but Percy surprised him. He surprised all of them.

_"From now on I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children...of _all_ the gods."_

The sea god caught sight of a beautiful woman surveying the remains of her temple. She delicately stepped over the debris and stared at the wreckage. Poseidon sidled up to her, and she smiled.

"Poseidon," she said happily. "It's been ages since we last spo-"

"_Why_," he grit out, "on all of Gaea, would you make my son give up immortality for a-a _girl_ of all things? Why would you make him throw away immortality?"

_Poseidon felt like he was falling from Olympus. He watched his son in confusion, not understanding why he had declined his reward. "I'm honored and everything. Don't get me wrong. It's just...I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."_

_When his son glanced back at the daughter of Athena with a love-struck_ _look_ _in his eye, Poseidon felt like Zeus had struck him with his master bolt.  
_  
"He would've hated it," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. She locked eyes with the sea god and they shifted to a familiar bright blue. "Ancient rules and oaths for eternity? Percy, sweet boy by the way, can barely keep the _camp_ rules."

_Poseidon stifled a laugh. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?"_

_Percy met his eyes a little sheepishly. "No...sir."_

"He would've been stuck running errands and dealing with Triton and Amphitrite for eternity. He'd be like one of those little fish trapped in an aquarium." Poseidon flinched at that. "Darling, I doubt he'd enjoy that."

_Humiliation and defiance flashed across Percy's face. "Tell me what to do," he said bravely, looking his half-brother on the eye._

_Triton drew back slightly before smiling condescendingly at the other son. The older prince faced Poseidon. "I will see to the front lines, Father. Don't worry. _I_ will not fail."  
_  
A sympathetic yet wry smile graced her sweet features. "And your son is very happy where he is, Poseidon." She tossed the sea god a drachma and winked.

Poseidon fiddled with the golden coin as the love goddess sashayed around the ruins. It had been years since he used a oneway Iris-message. The last time he used one was for Sally's wedding, and the memory left a bitter taste in the gods mouth. Paul Blowfish was a nice fellow, an improvement on the last mortal, and the sea god was glad that the man made Sally and Percy happy. But the thought of the mortal living with the Jacksons in place of Poseidon made the god jealous.

The sea god held the drachma in his palm. "Iris," he murmured. "My son, Camp Half-Blood...oneway." The coin disappeared and the image of Percy Jackson shimmered in front of him.

If Poseidon didn't know any better, he'd say that Medusa had petrified his son. He was unmoving, watching the funeral for his fallen friends and allies. Percy's jaw was set in grim acceptance and his attention was focused solely on the shrouds. His shoulders were sagged a little and his hands were clasped together. Then, eyes glimmering as always, he looked over the crowd of survivors, heroes. Percy's face smoothed, and he looked over Half-Blood Hill with calm air about him that made him seem so much older than 16.

The son of Poseidon stood and all eyes were on him. "Each and every one of these demigods was a true hero. They fought bravely to the end, and they are the reason we are here today. Their bravery and sacrifice will be told to the generations to come. And what they represented will live on in each of us. We will rebuild and we will thrive. We are the victors of the Titan War, and no one will tear us down."

Cheering erupted and the demigods held their weapons to the sky.

The sea god swiped through the Iris-message, having seen enough. In that moment, Poseidon finally understood his son. Percy Jackson was a hero, the greatest demigod of this generation, and the greatest of all of his sons. Orion could not compare to his half-brother's good heart, and Theseus could not compete with his power.

What Poseidon felt all those years ago when he looked down at his baby boy, and then now again, was _pride_. The constant glimmer in Percy's eyes that made demigods follow him and gods shrink back into their thrones was _fearlessness_.

The other gods were still nursing their wounded egos and recovering from the war. Aphrodite was most likely up to no good, and Athena would probably threaten to turn Poseidon's son into a cockroach if he didn't stay away from Annabeth. Zeus and Hades were bickering again somewhere via Iris-message, and Atlantis still needed to be rebuilt. But for now Poseidon was content.

Percy was not a failure. He wasn't a tragedy, he wasn't a wrongdoing, and he wasn't a chink in the sea god's defenses. Percy was Poseidon's favorite son, and the sea god couldn't feel prouder of him.

(Poseidon left Olympus thinking that Percy Jackson was one of a kind and none could compare.)

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who read this story, followed, favorited, reviewed - you guys are awesome, and I really hope that you liked this last chapter.**

**Please review!**


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